Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Technology...

Technology. It’s a marvelous, marvelous thing. I’m reminded of this upon the occasion of purchasing a new laptop computer. How have so many things changed over such a relatively short time span?

Take phones, for instance.

I can still remember dial telephones; the curly cords that allowed you to go about ten feet from the phone hanging on the wall. Invariably, they would get twisted beyond repair. It wasn’t a sad day when those went away, giving way to (can you imagine??) cordless telephones. Yes, indeed, no longer were you tethered to the wall in the kitchen. Now you could walk about freely, so long as you stayed in the kitchen. See, those early cordless phones didn’t work too well when the signal had to pass through a wall. These, or course, were replaced with different models, with different features, to the point where now you can walk down the block with a cordless phone and not lose an iota of signal quality.

How about answering machines? In days of yore, if someone wasn’t home if you called them, the phone just rang. Forever. I remember an Ann Landers column in the Long Island newspaper Newsday that said the appropriate number of times to let the phone ring before you hang up was 10. Really? Can you imagine your average 20-something having the patience to let an unanswered phone ring ten times? In a perfect world, I think they get to five. Probably four.

But maybe five.

I fondly recall getting my first answering machine. It came with a micro-cassette, and the cornucopia of cords and wires going into and out of it was impressive, to say the least. Oh, how we’d revel in coming up with new outgoing messages for callers to hear. It was nice, but the tapes needed to be replaced every so often. Effective, but annoying. It was a grand day when answering machines no longer needed tapes.

Now, if you were out and about, how would you know if someone tried calling you at home? Well, fear not, for a new-fangled device called a “pager” was soon to find its’ way onto your hip. Once upon a time, pagers were reserved for doctors on the golf course. Remember Dr. Beeper in the movie “ Caddyshack”? That’s the kind of guy I’m talkin’ about. Of course, it wasn’t too long before pagers were available to the masses, and the masses bought them in droves. You could even make up little codes to punch in after you punched in your number. I mean, who hasn’t used the code “911” on a pager?

One thing that pagers and answering machines allowed us to do was “screen” our calls. If you didn’t want to talk to the person who paged you, it was easy enough to say “Nope, didn’t get the page”. With an answering machine, especially the early ones which would erase a message if you looked at it wrong), you could claim the same.

Pagers certainly served their purpose. I recall having one until, I’d say, sometime around 1993. It was around this time that the earliest cellular telephones started becoming available to the public. I remember my first one. The company was Air Touch Cellular. That company’s no longer around. Hell, I don’t think the company that bought Air Touch is still around. But it was around back then. My first cellular (no one was using the term “cell” yet) was about the size of a two-slice toaster. It came with a bag and inside the bag was housed the battery. I remember getting it at the local swap meet (flea market for you east coasters). There weren’t any real stores you could go to in order to get one of these; at least not if you wanted to pay a reasonable amount. These stores, after all, had enormous overhead. So, I ended up getting my first cellular phone in between eating a churro I bought on the previous aisle and buying a 40-pair pack of socks.

I seem to remember the battery weighing about what your average car battery weighs today, but probably not. I had the little antenna coming out of the rear window of my 1985 Chrysler Laser. See, that’s how you could tell who the “with it” folks were; they had a phone antennas coming out of the rear windows of their cars. The handset looked, well, like a telephone, albeit it a circa 1984 modern-looking home phone handset with the keypad imbedded in the handset.

Now it was possible for someone to page you, and you could call them back on your cellular phone.

I don’t recall exactly when it happened. All of a sudden, everything got smaller. Pagers got so small they went away almost entirely. Honestly, I don’t know a single person who still uses a pager. No one. They’ve either moved on to a cell phone, or they’ve died.

There’s a Saturday Night Live skit where Bill Hader plays some nouveau clothes designer, and he pulls out a phone that’s about the size of a Pepperidge Farm Goldfish. That’s a gross exaggeration of reality, of course, but the fact is that “cell” phones (no one uses the term “cellular” now) have gotten a lot smaller. I used to keep my cellular phone behind the passenger seat of my car. It was that big. Now, I have two cell phones; one personal and one business, and I can carry them both in the same pocket.

But, really, they’re so much more than “phones”.

Now, you can surf the web, watch movies, send and receive e-mails, play games, and check the weather in Dubuque (you know, if you wanted to). Honestly, it seems as though the ability to actually make or receive a phone call is merely an ancillary benefit.

And, given how we used to use our answering machines and pagers to avoid talking to people years ago, maybe that’s not necessarily a bad thing…

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Trip #1 In The Books...

I have to leave my hotel in about four hours. Seeing as it's 11:00pm, this is something I'm not happy with. It's only a 90 minute drive to the airport, though, so I'm not concerned. I can sleep on the flight, and I have plenty of coffee.

My first trip of the year went pretty well. They can always go better, but they can certainly always go worse. This trip fell squarely, and comfortably, in the middle.

I landed about 11:30pm; about an hour late, and went to pick up my rental car. Something told me to go ahead and get the four-wheel drive, and I'm glad I did. Once I got into the nether regions of Ontario, it came in handy.

I wasn't too jazzed with the weather when I landed, though. I'd decided to go with a Jeep Liberty. The nice lady at the Thrifty counter pointed through the doors towards them, and out I went.

Into a blizzard.

Okay, it probably wasn't a "blizzard" by the standards of anyone who sees snow every year but, for someone from San Diego, these were white-out conditions. I was snow blind. And this was my truck:


My Jeep Liberty


I was based out of Chatham, Ontario, which is a small town about four hours west of Toronto. Once you get this far out, the majority of what you see is farmland. Well, unless you go to Sarnia, and then you see chemical plants.

I prefer farmland.

As I dabble in landscape photography, I made sure I had my camera; the trusty Canon G12, on the console next to me. You never know when a photo op will pop up and, hey, you wanna' be ready. As I was doing a lot of driving, I expected a lot of photo ops. I got some, but not nearly what I'd hoped. Then again, the weather wasn't the greatest.Still, I'd be damned if I wasn't going to take some pictures.

As I said, there's a lot of farmland up here and, everywhere you look, there are barns, etc; you know, things that belong on a farm.

So I did some snappin':









Of course, barns and farmland aren't the only things to shoot. One thing that Canada has, and Ontario especially, is police officers. The thought that popped into my min when I saw this scene was "They are out there. They are out there and they will find you and they will catch you":


No one ever successfully outruns a cop in Canada.


Now, sadly, my GPS unit died. It didn't wait for an opportune moment to die, it died while I was on my way to London, and driving unfamiliar roads. As a result, I had to rely on Google Maps (eons better than MapQuest, by the way). The bad part about that is, even though the directions are accurate, they do you no good if you don't read them correctly. What happens then is, well, you get lost.

That can be a blessing in disguise, though. When you get lost, you'll see all kinds of things that weren't on your prescribed route. Today, for example, I ended up driving through a residential neighborhood before coming up on a semi-frozen Thames River in Wallaceburg:


The Thames River.




Of course, I would've preferred that the sun was out, but I made do with what lighting I had, and got a shot of something that I never would've seen had my GPS decided to play nice.
You'll notice that there's snow in these photos. Well, one thing I've learned after surviving this winter extravaganza is that, when you drive your car in the snow, it gets dirty. Here's someone who was surely aware of that; they just didn't care:


Cops can't even run the license plate.

I get a big kick out of some of the road signs in Canada sometimes. They're funny. I especially like any sign that has a moose on it, but I didn't encounter any of those on this trip. I did, however, see a few which made me chuckle.

This one kills two birds with one stone: A funny sign and a farm:

Translation: Fatigue kills. Take a break.


What, exactly, is the reason not to drive 140?

All in all, it was a good trip. I got some problems taken care of, and I laid the foundation for problems in the future.

Hehehehe... Okay, not really.

The farms came and went, the cops wheeled by and the snow fell. I fly back in the morning, including having scored a first class bump to Denver. I'm still waiting to see what happens from Denver to San Diego. My fingers are crossed.

A couple of side notes here:

If you like the photos in this entry, and you're looking to buy a camera that isn't a big DSLR rig, consider the Canon G12. I paid $500.00 for mine, and I'm now travelling without my DSLR rig a lot more often. The G12 just gets the job done. If I didn't need the Canon 40D for my concert work, I might just be satisfied with the G12.

As I typed this, I was sitting in my swanky suite at the Holiday Inn in Chatham, listening to the news. Now, I'm not really a fan of CNN, but it's one of the few choices I have. Anyway, there's been non-stop coverage of the earthquake and tsunami in Japan. There's non-stop coverage of the nuclear power plants and their possible meltdown. It just ain't good. Talk about a bad, bad situation.

Anytime I see something like this, I'm reminded of one of my favorite sayings: "Dream like you'll live forever, live like you'll die tomorrow".

In other words, get out there and shoot some barns:





Thursday, March 10, 2011

So, It Was A Little Too Warm In San Diego...

Okay, not really.

But my travel season has descended upon me, so here I sit, in the Aviator's Club in Denver International Airport, on my way to Ontario. Southwest Ontario to be exact; Chatham. Checking the weather on my iPhone4 (bitchin' little gadget that it is), I see that it's 32 degrees there. It's supposed to get down into the high teens on Sunday.

That's cold.

I have steaks that aren't that cold.

But, hey, it's the gig.

Every time I make my first trip of the year, I take notice of the travelling habits of others, specifically where it concerns the security line.

Now, I should preface this by saying, with what could be considered a small amount of humility, that I am an expert traveller. When I get to the security line, I'm ready to go. Sadly, there seems to be far too few travellers who are able to say the same.

What I've noticed is that, as a populace, we don't seem to be getting much smarter when it comes to flying. We still forget to take off our shoes, our belts and watches. We forget that the Venti (whatever the Hell that is) half-caff mocha-latte-frappucino thing we bought at Starbucks needs to be finished before the TSA agent checks our ID and boarding pass. We forget the simple things which, if remembered, would, if I may be frank here, make my travelling life a Helluva' lot easier.

Case in point: body scanners.

I honestly can't think of anything which has collectively riled people's emotions more than these things. "How dare they!" or "I'm being violated!" actually are heard on occasion. Personally, I don't have a problem with it and, honestly, I don't understand why anyone does. Here's the deal: You know those things are there before you ever buy your plane ticket. If you don't, you're probably not smart enough to be buying a plane ticket, so you can go ahead and skip to the end of today's insightful, yet oddly humorous, entry. You know there's a good chance you're going to have to step into one of these machines. So, please, do those of us who A) have no problem with it and B) have travelling dialed in to where it's second nature a favor: Be quiet, stop bitching, and step on through.

Talking to Angelique, the TSA agent who was directing weary travellers into the scanner, I learned that, 50% of the time, whoever is monitoring the images can't even tell if it's a man or a woman in the machine. Now, this isn't due to either "lacking" anything, it's just that the resolution on the images isn't high enough to get a good enough view to determine if either should take up employment in, say, the adult entertainment industry or not. Now, perhaps Angelique was was just trying to allay what she thought were my fears. I just laughed.

I thought it was funny.

She motioned me into the machine.

So, there I stood, in my stocking feet with my hands over my head with my fingertips touching, awaiting the inevitable irradiation which would surely alter cellular make-up forever. And then it was over. "Come on through, sir".

That was it.

It's been like that, literally, every time I've gone through one of those scanners.

Unfortunately, the TSA agents had a far more difficult time convincing the woman behind me that it was safe. She wasn't going to be sterilized by this insidious procedure, she was assured, but she wasn't buyin' it. I collected my carry on, reassembled myself with my shoes, belt, watch, etc, and the woman behind me was still questioning the safety of the procedure. I was just hoping she would've asked them if they would really see a bomb on her, had she been wearing one. Now that would've made for some good television.

So, somehow, I managed to find my way to Denver, where I'll board a flight to Ontario. I don't land until almost 11:00pm, so that means curling up in my hotel room at about 1:00am or so. I'll be up by 6:00am, grab a shower, eat some breakfast, and then head out the door.

So, the fun begins yet again, just as it does every year. It's going to be a year of road trips and tours and rising blood pressure as I deal with travellers who just don't know any better.

And I wouldn't have it any other way...

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Shameless Self Promotion...

There's probably an old saying about "self promotion", but I don't know it.

Still, that's what I'm doing.

Over the past several months, I've been working on a number of books and calendars featuring my photography. It may be a bit of an ego boost but, to be honest, even I like having books and calendars featuring my photography. For that reason alone can I only surmise that everyone wants them.

Having recently finished edits and updates of both, I'm now offering them up for sale. The calendars are dated from May 2011 through April 2012, but I can adjust those dates if you'd like. Like the calendar, the book, titled Continental Cuisine: Views Of North America, features photography from my travels in the United States, Mexico and Canada.

I'm happy to sign the book, but that'll add a little more time to the delivery. If you'd like a signed book, let me know, as the book will have to be ordered through me instead of through the order page on the website. Just shoot me an e-mail at steve@steveparrphotography.com and I'll let you know how to go about it.

Okay, so my self-aggrandizement is over. Here's where you'll need to go to order them:

Continental Cuisine: Views Of North America

Steve Parr Photography Calendar: May 2011-April 2012

Enjoy!

Sunday, February 6, 2011

The Super Bowl...

I'm a Jets fan.

As such, you can probably imagine my dismay when they played the Steelers for the AFC Championship. I can only imagine what the outcome of that game would've been had the Jets elected to show up for the first half, since they made the Steelers look completely inept in the second half.

Ergo, I've no dog in this hunt, beyond wanting to see the Packers beat those who took out my Jets.

I've no profound words of wisdom to offer, hence the brevity of this entry. Let's face it: It's football, not rocket science.

I'll be off to a Super Bowl party for two reasons. First, well, because it's a party, and parties are fun. Second, the Super Bowl commercials are the best you'll see all year. The Darth Vader one this year is especially funny.

So, have fun, enjoy the game, and Go Jets.

I mean... er... nevermind...

Friday, February 4, 2011

Daytona...

My trip to Daytona began uneventful enough, considering that flight plan had already been altered from its' original state. It was all good, though. Instead of San Diego to Washington DC to Jacksonville, I'd have to go from San Diego to Los Angeles to Chicago to Jacksonville.

Okay, it could've been better.

Without going into the gory details, I avoided getting snowed in at Dulles, as flights out of DC were being cancelled faster than the local television coverage of the Chargers home games (which is another story altogether). I ended up landing in Jacksonville Thurday morning, and made my way to St. Augustine.

Friday morning didn't begin nearly as early as my brother Greg and I had planned. We'd talked about leaving for Daytona by 7:30am, but that didn't happen. That didn't even come close to happening. We finally left St. Augustine by around 9:00am or so, and were parking the car in the infield at Daytona International Speedway by 10:00am. We had come for the 49th running of the Rolex 24 Hours at Daytona.



Now, I've watched countless televised races from Daytona. It's 2-1/2 mile tri-oval, and it doesn't take a car all that long to turn a lap when it's going 200 miles per hour. But this was completely unexpected. I was actually pretty awed by how big it was, and I was standing in the infield. It was pretty damn epic.


The grandstand at Daytona

Our $85.00 tickets (hey, nobody said racing was cheap) got us not only into the infield, but also into the garage area. If you want to see how these race cars are worked on and put together, this is the place for you. Cars were in every state of disassembly, and watching someone take one apart and put it back together was actually kind of humbling. I can't even put an Ikea bookshelf together without detailed instructions written in four languages, and here these guys were tearing these cars apart and rebuilding them like they were playing with Legos.


The garage area at Daytona International Speedway

A crew working on a car in the Daytona garage area

Working on the engine of a "Daytona Protoype"

A rack of dry weather tires

The first race of the weekend, on Friday, was the Continental 200. This wasn't the "big" race of the weekend; that would start on Saturday. Still, it was fun to watch cars that you would normally see on the freeway cruising around the road circuit within Daytona.



And, as good as some of these drivers are, all the preparation and hard work in the world cannot help them avoid what will eventually befall every driver at some point in his career, the "DNF", or "Did Not Finish".


This Porsche, as you can plainly see, did not finish

After Friday was over at the track, we headed back to St. Augustine, only about an hour up the road. After downloading photos and recharging camera batteries, we found ourselves out and about in St. Augustine. It's a cool little city which also happens to be the oldest in the United States. We'd planned to go out for only a little while but, as will sometimes happen, we didn't get in until about 1:00am.

And we were getting up at 6:00am.

The second day started almost on time. We were pouring our first cups of coffee by 6:30am, and were headed out the door by 7:30am. We got to Daytona, found infield parking (which completely rocks), and got set for the day.

On Friday, I used, primarily, my Sigma 50-500mm lens. It's definitely got a focal length well suited for motorsports. For Saturday, though, my two main lenses would be the Sigma for daytime shooting, and the Canon 70-200mm f/2.8L. It's a nice fast lens which works well when the sun goes down.

The Rolex 24 is a pretty big deal. While I was pretty sure I wouldn't know the names of anyone involved in this race, I was surprised to learn that NASCAR great Jimmie Johnson, Indy 500 winner Dario Franchitti (Mr. Ashley Judd), and even actor Patrick Dempsey would be driving in the Rolex 24.


Indy 500 Champion Mr. Ahsley Judd (Dario Franchitti)

 Being on the track that I've seen, coutless times on television, was, to be honest, pretty damn cool. As I've said, the entire place is bigger than I thought it would be. The stands are higher, the banks are steeper, and the track is wider. Simply put, there just wasn't a single thing about this place which wasn't cool.


Me and Greg on the front straight at Daytona

Standing on the front straight at Daytona International Speedway

The Rolex 24 at Daytona began promptly at 3:30pm on Saturday. As you might suspect, because you're quite astute and intelligent, it ended at 3:30pm on Sunday. While we didn't stay for the entire race (I was flying back to San Diego on Sunday morning), we did stick around long enough for me to shoot over 3,400 frames.

When the Rolex 24 started, the one thing which was first and foremost in my mind was "Damn; ear plugs". These cars are loud. I mean really loud. Let me spell it out for you: I left Daytona International Speedway Saturday night, and my ears finally stopped ringing around 9:30 on Tuesday morning. Yeah, no hearing damage there.

The second thing I thought was "Man, these cars are fast". Compared to the Continental 200, the cars in the Rolex 24 were a completely different breed. It was the difference between a varsity high school basball team and the San Francisco Giants.

There are two classes in the Rolex 24, and they start separately, but it doesn't take long before the Prototypes are mingling with the Porsches, Mazdas and BMW's. It made for some great shooting opportunities.


Jimmie Johnson driving the Gainsco Prototype







As great as it would've been to stay for the entire race, I had to be in Jacksonville, about an hour north of St. Augustine, by 9:30am on Sunday, so I had to settle for the photos I shot on Friday and Saturday. Again, though, there are over 3,000 of them, and I'm slowly accepting the harsh, yet somehow comforting, reality that I'll probably never actually see all of them. I just don't have that kinda' time.

So, this was my second foray into motorsports photography, and I'm diggin' it. I've no idea how many opportunities I'll get to do it, and I'm pretty sure that the majority of those shoots won't be with my brother, who I really enjoy shooting with.

This was one of those short vacations that, once you're there, it makes all of your jacked-up flights and potential cancellations worth the trip...


Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Gotta' Love The Airlines...

My Wednesday began as most any other Wednesday, or any other day, would. I wake up, put a pot of coffee on, and head to the back deck for a morning smoke and some backgammon on my EVO phone (which, by the way, is completely bitchin’).

After turning my phone on, I see that I have a voicemail. Now, it’s 5:30 in the morning, and I went to bed at 11:00pm. Who the hell would be calling me and leaving a voicemail?

United Airlines, that’s who.

“Mr. Parr, for your loyal patronage, we’d like to bestow upon you lifetime Executive Status. Enjoy your seat in First Class on your upcoming trip”.

Would’ve been nice, huh? But, alas, no such luck.

It seems they’ve seen fit to cancel my 10:35pm flight out of San Diego tonight. “Don’t worry, we’ve rebooked you on the next available flight. You’ll depart San Diego on flight number umptyscratch, arriving in Jacksonville at 4:35pm on Thursday.

Huh?

No, this would not do. I have every intention of being in Florida before the Today Show is over.

I have no idea why they cancelled the flight. It was too early to do it because of weather in Washington DC (I was to have a layover at Dulles), and weather certainly isn’t an issue in the idyllic city in which I choose to reside, San Diego. All I can think of is that not enough people wanted to fly from San Diego to International to Dulles on a red-eye.

To their credit, the Customer Service guy I spoke with was pretty damn helpful. I told him that the rebooked flight would be fine, provided I wanted to get there tomorrow night. As we’ve established, I want to be there in the morning. He was able to rebook me on a flight from San Diego to Los Angeles, Los Angeles to Chicago, and then Chicago to Jacksonville. I’ll actually get to Jacksonville an hour earlier than originally planned (although I have to leave three hours earlier).

I have a three hour layover in Los Angeles, so maybe I’ll post an update.

Hell, I’m gonna’ need something to do…

The Final Hours...

The final hours in Seattle were fun, low voltage and relaxing. Jess and I have learned not to plan minute by minute and having everything la...